


Only For You

by gingeraleandchocolatecake



Series: anything you can do, i can do better [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cops AU, F/M, Fluff, hawaii 5-0 au, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:46:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeraleandchocolatecake/pseuds/gingeraleandchocolatecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's afraid of love, and it really pisses Bellamy off.<br/>(Come on, he got shot for her)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, this is kind of a hawaii 5_0 au, I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think in the comments bellow!

Coming back home after her father’s death, to Clarke, felt slightly humiliating. She wasn’t talking to her mother, hadn’t been for six years, and didn’t plan on so in the future. She hadn’t seen her friends in six years either and if it weren’t for her father’s murder, she’s sure she’d have never come back to Ark, Hawaii.

She saw the governor standing at the end of the pier under the harsh Hawaiian sun with the glasses on top of his forehead and his arms crossed pointedly over his chest. Clarke slowly descended down the bridge from her navy ship. She was a Marine, mainly a medic, but she trained as a marine aboard the USS Bronstein (That’s a destroyer).

She slowly descended down the bridge, the sun glaring at her eyes through her sunglasses and her golden hair was flying over her face. She walked over to him, grimacing against the sun as she pulled her glasses onto the top of her head. Her heels clinked slightly against the tarmac and she watched as the waves smacked down gently against the sand of the surrounding beach.

“Governor” she greeted, holding her hand out for him to shake while the other clutched onto her carry on.

“Sergeant Griffin” he nodded, turning around with the expectation of her to follow him.

“Not to sound ungrateful for the personal welcome but-” she paused, looking around, “What exactly _do_ you want Sir?” she asked bluntly.

The governor snorted, “They said you didn’t beat around the bush” she muttered.

Clarke frowned, tucking her hair behind her ear and crinkling her eyes against the light, “Who said Sir?”

“Your staff sergeant.” He stated, “He said that you deserved a higher promotion but refused to move up in the ranks. He said you were good at what you did. Do you agree with that Sergeant?” he asked.

Clarke smirked like it was some kind of inside joke, “I’m a marine Sir.”

“You didn’t answer my question”

Clarke sighed, looking around slightly awkwardly, “I’m a marine sir.” She repeated, “I think that speaks for itself.”

The governor nodded, “I’d like to offer you a task force.” He explained.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “Sir, I wasn’t planning on staying in town. To be honest, I’m surprised you even knew I was coming. I’ve got about three top secret missions running right now, nobody’s meant to know I’m even here. My cover would be blown. I’m risking a lot, coming back into town”

The Governor followed along, “I’m aware of that Sergeant.” He paused, looking at her with a sad look, “I’m sorry for you loss” he stated quietly.

Clarke took a beat. “Things happen.” She stated tightly.

“I want you to use the task force to find out who killed your father.” The governor continued. “I’d rather you use my resources than go looking for revenge. I’d like you do cases along the way and I’d like you to stay in Hawaii after that, continue with the task force. We’re a small island, we could do with more Marines.”

Clarke turned to look at the picturesque scenery of the beaches and elegant palm trees with her destroyer ship behind her. She watched the surfers coming in and out of the waves and the sun glaring over them. “I’d like to find out who killed my father sir. But after that I’m gone. I’ve got nothing keeping me here. “

The governor nodded, “We’ll talk further when the time comes.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke hadn’t been back to her childhood home in six years. The moment she got a chance to get out of this place she took it, leaving her father alone. Her parents divorced and her mum moved across the island and Clarke refused to talk to her.

She slid her old key into the lock, twisting the door open. She glanced behind her at the police tape that surrounded the house and she sighed. It was cold inside. She always remembered he dad having the house freezing and how they’d snuggle up on the couch watching 90’s horror movies.

She walked into the bright living room. And followed the tagging the police made. 1. 2. 3. More that she didn’t want to follow when she reached his desk. A beautiful oak 2 metre long table with stacks of his old cases and pictures up on the wall.

Lathered against the wall with bits of brain sticking out. Clarke nearly recoiled. The blood covered over the photos. She approached it slowly. A clear picture frame at the centre of the wall. It was of when she was six and her father had taken her fishing. A fine mist of red over her face and his.

She snorted, crinkling her nose to stop herself from crying. She pulled reached forwards and he hand landed on the frame. She felt her throat close up. _Don’t fucking cry._ She swallowed angrily, narrowing her eyes. Her black nail varnish contrasted against the white frame.

There was a creak behind her and her eyes widened. She pulled the gun from the back of her jeans and spun around, holding it up.

“Who the hell are you?” she snapped.

A tall figure stepped before her, his gun trained on her as well. “Me?” he frowned, “Who the hell are _you?”_ Clarke noticed he had freckles on his tanned skin and a head of jet black hair. He was tall, muscular and not unattractive.

Clarke frowned, “ _Me?_ You’re the one breaking and entering.”

“I’m working a case” he replied.

“This is _my_ house.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m a cop.”

Her eyes widened sarcastically, “Oh yeah, show me your badge”

“I can’t when a civilian is _waving_ her gun in my face.” He replied, his hand reaching for the walkie by his side. “Do I need to call for backup?” he asked patronisingly.

She glared at him, “Don’t condescend me.”

He sighed loudly, waving his gun, “Put. The gun. Down.”

“ _You_ put it down.”

“Okay we’ll put them down together”

She frowned at him, a look in her eyes that suggested she couldn’t believe what she was actually hearing, “What, like on the count of three?”

“Yeah, on the count of three” he replied and Clarke raised an eyebrow. “One-”

She stared, “Oh wow, we’re actually doing this.” She mocked.

“Two”

“Seriously?”

“Three.”

“Oh, come _on”_

Clarke reluctantly followed him as he slowly lowered his gun and replaced it into its holster. She coped, tucking back into her jeans and adjusting the white tank top over it. “Use your right hand to get your badge” she ordered and he raised an eyebrow, slowly reaching for his back pocket, he revealed a leather wallet.

He opened it, stepping forward, “Detective Bellamy Blake, HPD.” He stated and she looked at the badge. “And you are?”

Clarke held forwards her hand, “Ser-... Clarke Griffin.” She stated as he shook it.

“I’m sorry for you loss.” He remarked politely, running his hand through his hair.

She crossed her arms, “This is my case.” She stated defensively, avoiding the subject of her father.

He stared up at her. Her blond hair falling in waved over her hair and her soft looking skin contrasted with her cold and hard eyes. “ _You’re_ case? You’re not a police officer.”

“The governor let me have this case.” She stated, “I’m sorry you had to come all the way down here for no reason.”

He glared at her, “No-one told me, so as far as I know, this is my case and you’re interfering with a federal investigation”

Clarke rolled her eyes and scoffed, pulling out her phone and dialling. “What are you doing?” he sighed.

“I’m calling the governor, he can sort this out” she nodded approvingly, holding the phone to her ear.

“Seriously? You’re really going to pull the chain of command on-”

“Hello, governor. Detective Bellamy Blake has just walked into my crime scene and refuses to leave on the basis that this investigation is in fact his.” Bellamy rolled his eyes, And Clarke frowned, "What _now_?" she asked and then sighed. She turned around, holding her hand over the phone, "I Clarke griffin solemnly swear that I will uphold the law..." He stared at her wide eyed with his mouth open and scoffed. She suddenly turned around. “Of course sir. Yes, just one second.” She pulled the phone away from her head and held it out to him. He frowned at her and she rolled her eyes, “He wants to talk to you.”

 

* * *

 

“I need a partner”

Bellamy turned around, his hand grabbing the burger out of the woman’s hands. “What?” he asked, stepping away from the food truck.

“A partner. I need a partner.” Clarke repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bellamy glanced around. He was at a food truck near the beach with his partner. Whom was on the other side of the road conveniently was leaning against their plain car (They were detectives, not patrolmen) with a burger in his hand as he watched the beautiful woman converse with his partner. “Did you _follow_ me here?” Bellamy asked.

“Of course not,” she waved off and he seemed relieved, “I had HPD ping your cell phone and then I asked around if anyone had seen you.”

He cocked his head, “That’s essentially stalking.”

She continued like he hadn’t spoken “Then I built a character portfolio as to where you’d most likely be.”

He glanced around, wincing at the strength of the sun in his eyes, “And you got a food truck?”

She shrugged, “I went with the cliché.” She waved her hand, “But that’s not the point, the point is-”

“You need a partner. I heard you the first time.” He interrupted .

She looked around at the sand covered beaches and the beautiful clear wave and crinkled her eyes against the sun. “So?”

“So what?” he shrugged, crossing the road towards his partner.

“Will you be it?”

Bellamy stared at her as he began to walk along the pavement, “By it I hope you mean _partner.”_

“Of course.”

He shook his head, “Then, no.”

“ _No?”_ she cried incredulously.

“No.” He repeated.

“Why?”

He pointed to his detective car on which Miller was leaning against, watching them as they approached, “I got a partner” he remarked.

Clarke threw her hands up in exasperation, “This is a _task force”_

“Look. I can’t stand you.” he started as they approached the car, “The first time I met you, you practically humiliated me with the governor. You may have amazing credentials from the academy or something like that, but _I_ think you’re an asshole.” He’d expected that would make her go away, discourage her a little bit.

She smirked, “Ditto.”

“Ditto? What have you got to be pissed off about?” he exclaimed, approaching the car.

Miller pushed away from it, giving Bellamy room to put his food onto the windshield and slam the door. “Miller can you give us a second” Miller wriggled his eyebrows and stepped away, climbing into the car on the other side of the car.

“Uh, you pulled a gun on me the first day I met you.” she stated casually.

“What? You pulled it first.”

“Because you snuck up on me!” she accused.

“You were in my crime scene”

“It was _my_ crime scene”

“I didn’t know that at the time” he threw his arms up.

“ _Look.”_ She interrupted hotly, “I need a partner.” She repeated.

“I got that.” He deadpanned, “But I don’t understand why you want me.”

She shrugged, “You’re good at your job.”

“And you know this how?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I pulled some of your files.”

“And again I bring reference back to the aforementioned stalking.”

“You’ve got a high success rate, you’ve lived here your whole life so you know the place like the back of your hand, I need people like you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean people like me?”

“Good people. People I can trust.” She looked at the beach as though she couldn’t look him in the eye, “Ex-Army Ranger” he narrowed his eyes.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the car, “And you think I’m those people?”

She smiled slightly, tilting her head and shoving her hands into her jean pockets. “I think you’re a start.” She admitted, looking him in the eyes.

He smirked at the determination in her them, “I’ll think about it.” He agreed finally.

Clarke suddenly wiped the smile off her face and returned to her normally rock hard demeanour. She pulled the sunglasses over her eyes, pursing her lips. “You have an hour. Then my offer’s off the table.” She stated.

Bellamy nodded with a small smirk. She turned around, walking away from him. The sun glaring down on her made her hair look blonder than ever. She walked with such grace and yet deadliness that Bellamy almost scoffed at his internal monologue. He watched her reach her car, not before glancing back at him. He grinned and looked down at the floor, shaking his head as he opened the car door and got in.

“Who’s _she?”_ Miller asked, his eyes lingering on the corner she’d turned.

Bellamy smiled like a silly child taking a pause to watch her drive away, “Nobody” he muttered.

“This nobody’s got you grinning Blake. Keep it in your pants.” Miller remarked and Bellamy shot him a look.

“Fuck off.”

He called her later that day with the number his captain gave him. He doesn’t call her an hour later, he waits longer. He wants to piss her of and when she picks up he doesn’t let her talk. Which she finds a bit rude but she does it all the time so she can hardly Complain.

_“Hell-”_

“I have conditions.” He stated immediately.

 _“Name them.”_ She replied.

Bellamy stared at the file he had before him. Clarke’s military file which he had to call out about ten favours just to get a whiff of. And _man_ she was impressive. “I get to bring Miller.”

 _“Done.”_ She replied.

“And I get time off when I need it” he added, flicking the pages of her file through to her service record. She had hundreds of successful missions. The majority of it was blacked out, ‘ _confidential’_ they’d said. And there was very little on her family and childhood. Only that she had been in medical school for a year before dropping out and joining the marine. She’d worked her way up incredibly fast.

_“I told you, you had an hour, not five”_

He shrugged, “I needed to find out who I was working with.”

_“And?”_

“And you sound like good people Sergeant.” He stated, closing the folder. Her name clearly written on the top in bold letters.

_“How did you get my file? It’s classified.”_

He grunted, grabbing his beer from his desk and dropping down on his revolving chair. His feet on the arm rest of the sofa, “Don’t worry, most of its blacked out. They only left me the good stuff.” He glanced at the TV, uninterested it what was going on, “So when do I start?”

_“I never said you go the job.”_

“Okay then” he shrugged, “I guess I’ll see you around.” And he hung up.

He took a sip of his beer, turning back to the T.V and just as the worlds dumbest criminal came on his phone started to ring. He grinned, pulling it out of his pocket and held it to his ear.

“Hello?” he mocked.

 _“Stop fucking smiling”_ she snapped.

“I’m not smiling” his grin got wider.

“ _I can hear you down the phone.”_

“Does this mean I got the job?” he asked.

She sighed loudly, “ _Eight o’clock tomorrow morning at Aliiolani Hale. Don’t be late and bring Miller.”_

“Final condition.”

_“Yes?”_

“I help with your father’s murder case.”

The silence was deafening. He felt his anxiety rising slowly at each passing second at which he could only hear her breathing. He dropped his feet onto the ground. His eyes narrowing  as he listened for a response.

“Princess?”

_“I’m in charge. It’s my case. I don’t need your help.”_

He shook his head. Stubborn, _stubborn_ woman. A marine’s determined but add on the fact that she’s a _woman._ Christ Bellamy was not ready for this.

“Who else is working with us?”

_“I’ve got an ME, a forensic specialist and Finn Collins as Miller’s partner.”_

“Why can’t I stay partners with Miller?”

_“Because I can’t stay in a car with Finn for more than an hour, or he’ll end up doing something stupid.”_

Bellamy scoffed, “What like kill you?”

Clarke took a beat, “Something like that.” She muttered, hanging up the phone.

 

* * *

 

She was difficult to work with. She was stubborn and constantly had to be correct, and in charge and she was _such_ a know it all. She was good at her job, perfect aim and instincts but she was _mad._ And Bellamy found it kind of... _hot._

He had to admit, there was something about her that he found infinitely marvellous. She was different and _insane_ and Bellamy loved it. She kept him on his toes. She was unpredictable and totally socially inept. But that’s why they worked well together.

“Seriously?” Bellamy shook his head, “You’re insane.” He muttered rubbing his eyes.

Clarke huffed, dropping her hand so the black dress swung loosely from it. “It’s the only way to get in.”

Bellamy was leaning against the screen, his hip pressing into it with his arms crossed while miller sat up on it, his legs swinging off of it. Raven, their forensic specialist was next to Bellamy and Monroe the ME was busy dissecting a body.

Miller shook his head, “They’ll shoot you before you even walk through those gates. It’s a wedding Clarke. It’s like the godfather all over again.”

Raven glanced at Clarke worriedly, “Clarke you’re not even on the list.”

“I’ll figure that out” she waved off, “So I’ll go in, do a little detective work, find out whom to ask and then figure it out.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “Nothing is ever that simple with you.” he stated, he glanced at her office and titled his head in that direction. She nodded and he walked off.

“Right, Raven, analyse the content of that vile I gave you, Miller, go see Monroe and find out what she’s got.” She ordered.

Their offices were on either side of a wide corridor that led to the bullpen. And every wall and door was clear, in case someone broke in. Everyone split off and Clarke followed Bellamy into her own office. She shut the door behind her and sat in her seat. Bellamy sat opposite her, glancing through the clear walls. “Why do you want to go in so badly?”

Clarke frowned, “Because an eight year old boy got murdered. The Grounders can’t just go around killing whoever they want.”

Bellamy shook his head, “They’ve been a gang for fifty years Princess, what makes you think you can take them down?”

Clarke shrugged, “They’ve never gone against me.”

Bellamy leaned back in his chair gagging her reaction. “So this has nothing to do with the fact that Kane’s invited as well?” he asked.

Clarke froze momentarily. She shook her head, “Who?” she asked.

Bellamy scoffed, “Don’t play dumb with me Princess. Kane. He’s a hit man. The hit man we suspect for your father’s murder.” Clarke shook her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged, tucking a strand behind her hair.

Bellamy pointed to her. “You have a tell princess. I know when you’re lying.”

Clarke grunted. “Okay. So what? I kill two birds with one stone.”

Bellamy shook his head, looking around as though someone had appeared to listen in on their conversation, “How sure are you it was him? How sure are you that he knows who ordered the hit?”

Clarke frowned, “100% sure, why?”

Bellamy closed his eyes, pinching above his nose. “Be ready at eight, I can get us in.” He stood up briskly.

“How?” she asked curiously.

Bellamy waved her off, pushing her office door open, “Just be ready at eight. Meet me there.”

And credit to her, she was ready at 7:50. Bellamy stood outside the majestic gates of the grounder’s leader’s home. A slick black suit on his with his hair slicked back. The outside was illuminated by 3,500 fairy lights and a bouncer at the entrance with their names on a list. Clarke’s Taxi pulled up outside, she stepped out, staring at, essentially, the palace before her.

Bellamy gave her a once over, licking his lips. Clarke had changed into a full length red strapless dress with a slit that ran up her thigh. Bellamy swallowed the lump in his throat when she smiled in his direction. Her hair was in perfect waves and she’d put on some red lipstick. It was increasingly hard for Bellamy _not_ to stare.

“You clean up good.” She smirked.

He looked her up and down again, “Not so bad yourself princess.” He stated, holding out his arm from her. “Shall we?”

She smiled, taking it, “We shall?”

Her heels clicked against the floor as Bellamy led her to the entrance. They stopped in front of the bouncer.”Name please?”

“Bellamy Blake.” He stated and Clarke frowned at him.

No alias. No back up. His name _directly_ on the list. The bouncer nodded them through and Bellamy led Clarke up the long brick driveway of which other couples were walking up. Clarke leaned into him, “What the _hell_ was that?” she hissed.

Bellamy leaned in, his lips brushing her ear and his breath tickled, “Don’t worry about it.”

Clarke hobbled up the steps, walking with Bellamy under the white arch. The front door was thrown open into a great Ball room. A buffet lines the front 60 meter long room, right where the entrance was, and tables were scattered around in a semi circle in front of it, giving a large dancing space.

People were dancing to the orchestra music and at the far end of the room was a table at which the bride and groom were meant to sit, sat the groom’s parents. The bride and groom had gone mingling. The bride didn’t have any parents. And the father of the groom was the leader of the grounders.

Clarke was about to ask him what the _hell_ was going on when someone stepped in front of them. “Bellamy” he greeted, holding out his hand. Bellamy hesitantly shook it.

“Lincoln.” He stated cold, in an attempt to be polite.

Lincoln turned to Clarke, “Who’s this?” he asked politely.

“Uh, Lincoln this is Clarke, Clarke this is Lincoln.” He stated. Clarke held out her hand for him to shake, but instead his kissed it.

“Pleasure to meet you” he stated kindly, flashing her a small smile.

“You too.” she replied.

Lincoln turned back to Bellamy, a cloud of reassurance in his eyes. “Thank you for coming” he revealed.

Bellamy adjusted his jacket, “I wasn’t planning on it. There’s someone here I need to talk to for work and this is the only way I can get to him.” Clarke nearly slapped him. Did her seriously just say that to a member of the grounders?

Lincoln nodded sadly, turning around to look at the dancing people. “Does she know you’re here?” he asked quietly.

Bellamy glanced at Clarke awkwardly. He shook his head, “I’d rather she didn’t.”

Lincoln nodded, “Okay. Who are you looking for?”

“Kane.” Clarke interrupted.

Lincoln pointed to a tall man dancing in the crown. His hair slicked back slightly as he danced with the mother of the groom. She laughed at something he said. Bellamy interlaced his fingers with Clarkes and she stared at him, frowning. “Come on, we’re going to dance.” He stated. He gave Lincoln a nod and dragged Clarke onto the dance floor. “We need to  get him to dance with you.”

Clarke stared at him as he begun to lead them in the dance. He was elegant and Clark felt like she bumbled at each turn. His hand was warm on her back and she felt her heart speed up and he cheeks flush slightly. “What makes you think he’ll want to dance with me?”

Bellamy laughed, staring at her like she was crazy, “With the way you look, he’ll want to. Trust me.”

Clarke stared at him, “Are you going to tell me what the _hell_ is going on. Why is your name on the list?”

He shrugged, “I was invited.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “So at night instead of superman you double as a drug dealer for the grounders?” she demanded.

He chuckled and shook his head, spinning her around again. “I need the extra pocket money”

Clarke would have laughed. But instead she used her heal to crush his toes. He winced. “I mean it Bellamy. What the fuck is going on?”

“Excuse me, do you mind if I cut in?”

Clarke and Bellamy stopped dancing and turned to look at Kane who stood before them, his hand out for Clarke to take. Bellamy stepped away, “Of course not.” Clarke graciously took his hand, stepped away from Bellamy who quickly whispered in her ear.

“Tell him he owes me.”

_What?_

Kane spun her around until she fell back into his arms. His hand wasn’t the same as Bellamy’s on her back. It was cold and big and she didn’t feel comfortable. “Are you also a police officer?” he asked casually.

Clarke cocked her head, “Yes. I am.” She replied. Might as well go with the truth.

Kane nodded, “You didn’t lie. That’s good.” He spun her around again, “And pray tell, what are you doing here young lady?”

Clarke pursed her lips, “I need to ask you a question.” She stated

Kane laughed, “You’re going to have to get a subpoena darling.”

Clarke frowned, “Bellamy said you owe him.”

Kane pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her, “I suppose I do. Alright then. What’s your question?”

Clarke frowned, it was _that easy._ “I want to know who ordered you to kill my father.”

He stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed before his eyes widened dramatically, “You’re the griffin girl.” He looked at her sadly, “I’m so sorry for you loss. He was a good man. He loved you very much.”

Clarke scoffed, “Just answer the question.”

“His name’s Jaha.” Kane glanced around, “He’s the leader of the Sky people. He killed him, not me.”

“Why?” she asked as he stepped away, bowing.

“Thank you for this dance. I believe your friend is waiting for you outside.” And Kane melted into the crowd. She wanted to chase after him, force him to tell her everything. But now was not the time. She glanced at the bride. The bride who looked no older than twenty with her straight black hair and beautiful blue eyes. She looked familiar. So familiar she felt a pang in her chest.

She brushed it off, swiftly dodging between the dancers and walked out of the front door. Bellamy was sitting on the hood of his car and he heard Clarke’s heels  before he saw her. She sat down next to him, crossing her legs over each other.

“Talk.” She ordered.

He sighed, looking down at his feet and he crossed his arms. “I used to be a part of the grounders” he muttered.

Clarke pursed her lips. “I gathered as much.”

Bellamy shuffled, “My mum killed herself when I was fourteen. I had to look after my sister from then on and it was, you know, it was hard. I joined the grounders and they kept us safe. I left when I was eighteen and joined the academy. But my sister... well, she fell in love.” He stated bitterly. “And she wouldn’t leave. I tried to keep in contact but... it was a conflict of interest, and eventually we just stopped talking.”

Clarke didn’t think they were so similar. She hadn’t spoken to her family in so long and they had both lost people and yet they both came out on top. With a few scars. “How long?” she asked.

Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, “Five years or something” he shrugged, “I try not to think about it.”

Clarke nudged his shoulder. “Was she at that wedding?” she asked.

Bellamy nodded, “Lincoln’s her... boyfriend.”

Clarke looked at him. “You tried.”

“Stop it.” He interrupted.

“I mean it.” She stated, stepping in front of him, “You tried and she didn’t want to go. There’s only so much you can do, and you did it. I know you did it. You love her, she’s your sister, you _tried._ That’s all that counts.” Bellamy stared up at her, a silent thank you in his eyes. She cocked her head, holding out her hand, “You look like you could use a drink.”

Bellamy chuckled, “If you’re buying” He grabbed her hand and allowed her to pull him up. “Did you get the name?” he asked as they began to walk away.

“I’m Clarke Griffin” she grinned, “I always get what I want.”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy walked down the corridor and he spotted Clarke swiping something across the IT screen in the centre of the bullpen. She hadn’t heard him yet. He walked over to her slowly, watching as she frowned down at the screen.

She looked sad, haunted as she ran her hand through her hair. Bellamy saw the funeral _invitation_ addressed to her and let out a breath. She tenses, swiping the invitation away so that it seemed as though she was looking at inventory.

“Morning” she stated, not turning around.

“Morning. You’re in early.” He stated, coming up next to her and resting his hip against the board.

“I slept here.” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A sign Bellamy knew meant she was nervous, or lying.

“Clarke you can’t keep doing that.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m fine.” She waved him off, turning around to walk back into her office.

Bellamy grabbed her wrist, pulling her back just as Finn and Miller walked through the door. “You’re not fine.” He said quietly. Clarke frowned at the gentleness of his tone, “You need to sleep in a bed, in an actual house.”

Clarke pushed him off, “If I want to sleep here, I will. I don’t need you fawning over me Bellamy.”

Bellamy shook his head, “I need to know that you have my back and you can’t do that if you’re sleeping here getting zero hours of sleep.” He shot back.

Clarke growled, “I can do my job perfectly well detective” she ground out.

“You nearly _shot_ a suspect yesterday” he cried.

“He was pissing me _off!”_

“What’s going on here?” Finn asked and Bellamy detected a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“ _Nothing”_ they both snapped, the air around them tense and they kept their eyes locked.

Miller stepped forward and place his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, “Maybe you should-” Bellamy pushed him off as Clarke interrupted.

“I don’t plan on staying so what’s the point in investing in that shit.” She finalised “It’s just another burden I’ll have before I leave.”

“Then why are you here in the first place?" he asked, crossing his arms. Miller and Finn quietly slipped into their offices, both clearly eavesdropping on their animated conversation.

Clarke stared at him, “Why do you care?”She questioned, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest.

He shrugged, “I don’t want to start relying on you if you’re eventually going to leave.”

She threw her arms up, “Everyone’s eventually going to leave.” She cried, turning around and running her hands through her hair. She rested her hands against the screen, dropping her head down and sighing loudly.

The Hawaii sun glared through the window and his Clarke in the face. Her eyes brighter and pained more than usual. Bellamy watched this woman, this beautiful, strong, passionate woman who had died inside long ago, and he watched as her thirst for revenge grew each day.

He stared at her, is eyes suddenly widening. He pointed at her accusingly, going to the other side of the careen so he could look at her. “You’re looking for him aren’t you?” he accused angrily.

Clarke huffed and turned around, storming towards the exit “That’s none of your business.” She bristled, pushing open the door and heading for the stairs. “I don’t see why I have to inform you of everything I do. If I hadn’t made it clear, it’s _my_ case and I know what I’m doing-”

Clarke stomped on the stairs, angrier with each step as Bellamy followed closely behind. “Clarke he’s dangerous” he stated worriedly.

Clarke pushed the main doors open, stepping out into the picturesque scenery that Honolulu constantly managed to maintain. “So is ever other dirt bag we go after.”

Bellamy’s hand wrapped around her forearm and he pulled her back to face him. Their bodies flushed and she glared at him. “He’s dangerous Clarke. More than you know. I told you, _I told you_ not to go after him. At least not alone.”

Clarke frowned. She did that a lot. At any moment when there was some kind of emotion or revelation of caring for someone, or anything like that, she shut down.  She’d frown and cross her arms in a defensive mode. She’d done it a lot.

“I don’t want your help.” She stated.

“But at what point princess are you going to realise that you _need_ it?” he asked thoughtfully. “Jaha is a cold hearted _murderer._ You get mixed up in that stuff and you’re going to wind up dead. And I prefer you breathing.” He stated.

Clarke frowned again, her eyes calculating him. She’d never known anyone who would irritate her so much and force her to ask for help. On some level she knew that’s why she’d asked him. She knew she needed to be pushed. But she fucking hated it.

“Jaha _shot_ my dad through the head.” She started. “A bullet in the skull, in his own home. The house I grew up in. The house where I took m first steps and said my first words are _soiled_ with is brains over the _wall._ So ex-fucking-cuse me if I want to catch that son of a bitch. But I _don’t_ need your help to do it.”

Bellamy yanked at her arm to stop her talking. He stared at her, obvious traces of worry in his eyes, “Jaha will kill you. No matter how good and strong you are, Jaha will _kill_ you if you keep looking into him.” He paused, “Let me help you.” he begged, “Let me be your backup.”

“How can I trust you to have my back when you used to be a part of-”

Bellamy saw a flash from behind Clarke at the top of a building and his eyes widened. “ _Sniper!”_ he screamed, as a gunshot echoed through the air. Throwing himself at Clarke and spinning their bodies around, they collapsed on the grass, Bellamy on top of her.

The response was immediate. The police inside ran outside to return fire. Clarke’s chest was heaving as she looked up at Bellamy. His eyes wide. Clarke saw his hand reach up. A pool of red liquid surrounding it. _Blood._

“Bellamy” she breathed as he rolled off of her, onto the ground with a thump. “ _I need an ambulance!”_

There was a dark patch around his stomach where the blood was seeping out of his bullet wound. Clarke gasped, leaning over him. With her hands, she ripped open his shirt, pulling it out from underneath him and holding it over his wound.

“Bellamy” she repeated, “Hey Bellamy. Look at me, how do you feel?”

Bellamy’s eyes were cloudy, as though he was sleepy when he looked back at her. He glanced down at his body and smirked softly, “If you wanted to see me naked you just had to ask Princess.”

She scoffed, her eyes watering. His eyelids started to droop and Clarke panicked, “Bellamy! Hey Bellamy don’t close your eyes, look at me” she begged, rubbing a tear that spilled through with her bloody hands.

“Always” he whispered, smiling weakly.

“ _Where’s that ambulance”_

Bellamy looked up at her, “I told you he was dangerous.”

_Dying and he still had to fit in a fucking I told you so._

“You’re an _idiot.”_ Clarke suddenly snapped, glaring at him, “You shouldn’t have done that. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

Bellamy looked into her eyes. His bloodied hand reached upwards slowly to cradle her cheek. Clarke choked on her tears and Bellamy looked at her sadly.”Do me a favour” he started slowly, “I need you to-”

 _“No.”_ She hissed, grabbing his wrist. “No I will not. You know why? Because you’re going to fucking live.” She squeezed tightly on his hand. “There will be no dying wishes here today.” She begged.

Bellamy smiled softly, squeezing back, “Princess. I need you to find Octavia.” He whispered, his eyes lids drooping.

“Octavia? Who’s Octavia?” she demanded.

Bellamy blinked, keeping his eyes shut for a few seconds, “Tell her I love her and... I’m sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”

Clarke smiled. Blood smeared across her face and tears pooling behind her eyes as she heard sirens in the distance. “You can tell her yourself” she whispered, pushing back the hair from his forehead in a tender move.

Bellamy’s eyelids shut, his head dropping to the side. “Bellamy?” she frowned, shaking him slightly, “ _Bellamy!”_ she screeched, “Bellamy! Don't you dare die on me” the ambulance pulled up, “Don’t you dare- _Bellamy!”_

 

* * *

 

She scrubbed her hands into the sink. Scratching the blood off her skin and it _wouldn’t_ go. She rubbed under her eyes covering her cheeks with a smear of blood. She sobbed, placing her hands on either side of the sink. The blood wasn’t coming off and Bellamy had been dragged into surgery.

T he blood was on her shirt, her jeans; she’d thrown away her jacket because it was soaked through. She sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers shaking as she pushed her hair away from her face. _Fucking bell end. Jumped in front of a bullet for her. Who did he think he was._

“ _idiot.”_ She muttered, storming out of the bathroom. Her hands still bloodstained and traces across her face.

She collapsed into a chair in the waiting room, pulling out Bellamy’s phone from her pocket, she started to scroll through his contacts until she found one named Octavia. His sister, she assumed. She took a deep breath and hit the call button.

“ _Bellamy?”_ an astounded voice whispered on the other end of the line.

“Octavia?” Clarke asked.

“ _Who are you?”_

“Uhm... my name’s Clarke, I’m Bellamy’s partner.”

“ _Is everything okay?”_

“Uhm.” Clarke’s voice wavered, “There’s been an accident.” She whimpered.

 _“What’s-”_ Octavia choked, “ _What happened?”_

Clarke closed her eyes and pinched her nose, taking a deep breath, “He’s... he’s been shot.”

“ _Oh god.”_ She breathed, “ _is he...?”_

Clarke shook her head, “No. No. He’s in surgery but the doctors... the doctors say it’s bad.”

 _“Oh my... fuck.”_ She hissed down the line. “ _Fucking idiot. Why did he have to get shot?”_ she hissed and Clarke found herself laughing.

“I said the exact same thing.” She chuckled.

“ _Were you there? When he...?”_ She asked.

Clarke glanced around, checking that Bellamy hadn’t gotten out of surgery without her realising. “Yeah. He told me to call you. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry.”

Clarke heard Octavia choke and laugh. “ _Fucking idiot was so stubborn he waited until he was dying.”_

Clarke shook her head smiling, “He’s at Honolulu memorial Hospital, you should come and check on him. I know he’d love to see you.”

 _“Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yeah I’ll be there.”_ And she hung up.

Clarke held her face in her hands looking down at the ground. _He cannot die._ She started thinking of scenarios in her head, what if he died? What would happen then? For at least an hour until the doors burst open and a cart drove past her with Bellamy unconscious in the back. “Is he okay?” she demanded, following along into a room.

Finn and Miller followed her in, “How is he?” Miller asked.          

The doctor pushed the cart up the wall and the nurses adjusted the machines. “He stable.” Clarke let out a sigh of relief. “But he’s critical. The Bullet missed his heart by mere inches and nipped his right lung. We managed to close up the wound and extract the bullet. He’s fine for now.” The doctor left and Clarke stared at Bellamy.

He looked so frail with tubes all over the place and a respirator taped on. Miller touched Clarke’s elbow, “I’m going to go back to the station with Finn we’re going to look over the security cameras.”

Clarke turned to face him with a blank look in her eyes. She stared straight at him, like she was looking through him. “Uhm...” she closed her eyes, “Can you...” she paused, opening them again and looking at a spot on the wall as she spoke. “Can you let me know what you find?”

Miller nodded, “’Course.”

Miller and Finn left leaving Clarke alone. She rubbed her eyes quickly, refusing to cry. She awkwardly fiddled with her fingers, approaching him slowly. She loomed over him and reached up to push the hair away from his eyes. She took in a shaky breath, dropping down on the seat next to him and leaning her head against the wall. She’d been up for hours, Bellamy had been in surgery for eight hours and she’d gotten cold and had put on his jacket.

She closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh and crossed her arms. It was like she was his body guard. She felt herself drifting into sleep. The door slammed open, crashing against the wall and Clarke jumped to her feet, he hand reaching for her gun.

Octavia had stormed through the door, her cheeks flushed and clear panic in her wide eyes. Clarke pointed at her, “You’re the wedding girl” Octavia frowned, “I was at your wedding, _you’re Bellamy’s sister?”_

Octavia pointed back, “I remember seeing you. Wait, did Bellamy go?” she asked. Clarke nodded and Octavia smiled softly, “I didn’t think he would” she glanced at Bellamy and then back at Clarke. “I can safely assume you’re Clarke?” she asked, holding out her hand.

Clarke shook it, “The one and only.”

Octavia walked over to Bellamy, holding his hand and kissing it softly, “I missed you Bell.” She whispered, interlacing her hands over his. “I can’t believe one of us has to nearly _die_ to get us talking again.”

Clarke felt awkward intruding on this family moment. “The doctors aren’t sure when he’s going to wake up” she remarked.

Octavia saw some of the hospital food on the table before him and pointed to the Jelly. “Green jelly?” she pointed out.

“Uh, yeah he doesn’t like-”

“The red on, yeah I remember.”

“Usually we share it because I like the red, not the green.”Clarke remarks.

He wakes up two days later. Clarke is curled up on a chair next to him her hand clutching at his arm. He’s pretty sure that’s the most physical, _caring_ contact she’s ever shown. Figures she wouldn’t hold his hand. He grunts and groans, _shot. Of course he was shot._ He tries to sit up but it hurts. Octavia walks through the door, humming a tune with two cups of coffee and when she sees him awake she drops them both onto the floor and her hand flies over her mouth. Staring at him in shock.

 He smiles weakly and she screams, laughing hysterically. Bellamy can’t tell. Clarke next to him jumped to her feet, reaching for her gun and watches Octavia who grips at her scalp, sinking from her knees and balancing on the Balls of her feet, covering her mouth as uncontrollable sobs escaped. Clarke frowned turning to look at Bellamy and her eyes suddenly widened her hand flying over her mouth as she started to laugh.

She reached out onto the side of his bed to keep her balance as her laughter boomed around the room with Octavia who looked like she’d die of happiness at any moment. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” she repeated, rocking on the balls of her feet as Clarke wondered over to her with what seemed to Bellamy to be watery eyes.

She pulled Octavia to her feet and Octavia pulled her in for a hug. Bellamy stared, mouth gaping as his sister, who he hadn’t spoken to in five years and his cold and pretty emotionless partner practically burst into tears in each other arms. “He’s alive.”

Clarke grinned, staring at him and Bellamy lost his breath, she looked so _happy. “he’s alive”_ she repeated and Octavia continued to sob.

Bellamy coughed a couple of times and the girls broke apart, staring at him. “If this is the welcome I get I should get shot more often.” Clarke and Octavia’s expressions suddenly turned thunderous and Bellamy’s head started screaming _run._

Clarke and Octavia approached him on either side of his bed, pointing angrily.

“You _idiot”_ Clarke screamed, “You jumped in front of a bullet for me, what the hell is wrong with you Bellamy!? You could have died you absolute bell end. I could kill you _right now-”_

 _“_ -Takes you getting shot for us to _see_ each other. _And_ you went to my wedding and didn’t tell me, you’re fucking ridiculous Bellamy, getting yourself shot when you’re the only family I have I could _strangle you-”_

“-And she’s your sister! Why didn’t you tell me that! You know what, that’s not even the problem, _never jump in front of a bullet for me or I will kill you myself._ I’m not a child Bellamy, there’s no need for you to play heroes you _idiot!”_

“-She tells me that you’ve been shot. You don’t speak to me for five years and the first thing I hear about you is that you’ve been shot, I nearly had a fucking heart attack, don’t you ever do that to me again you stupid, _stupid, stupid Bell end.”_

Bellamy stared at them wide eyed, shocked. He suddenly grinned, pulling Octavia down for a hug, crushing her against his chest not matter the pain he was in. “It’s good to see you ‘tav.” He whispered and Octavia sobbed into his shirt.

“Don’t ever get shot again.” She demanded and Bellamy laughed through his tears.

Clarke pointed to the door and mouthed ‘ _later’_ and Bellamy nodded. She shut the door behind her, dropping against it and resting her head, closing her eyes. _He’s alive._ She laughed, shaking her head and wiping her tears, tears she hoped Bellamy hadn’t seen.

_He’s alive._

Octavia leaves later that afternoon to go home and shower since her and Clarke have been there for two days. Clarke hugs her and Octavia thank her for taking care of her brother. “He  cares for you” she whispered and leaves Clarke stunned.

“Knock, knock” she said poking her head through his door.

Bellamy looks up at her and smiles weakly, “Hey.”

Clarke walks through awkwardly, her hands stuffed in her pocket and smiles hesitantly, “Octavia left?”

Bellamy nodded, “Yeah, she said she had to go home and take a shower. She’s been here for two days.” He looks at Clarke with narrowed eyes, “She says you have too”

Clarke shrugged, sliding into the seat beside him and crossing her legs. “Someone had to keep an eye on you.”

Bellamy chuckled, “Yeah I guess so.” He looks back at her, frowning slightly. “You’re wearing my jacket” he stated.

Clarke glanced down at the black leather jacket and then back at him, “Yeah, ‘coz you ruined my other one.” She accused.

Bellamy stares at her, “I got _shot”_

Clarke glared at him, “Woop-dee-fucking-doo. Congratulation Bellamy. You got _shot._ Kudos to you,” she hissed angrily, “You want a medal. _Stupidest man on the planet?”_

Bellamy continued to stare in her in shock, “But... I got shot”

Clarke steadied her breath, her voice low and threatening, “I’m _so_ pissed off with you right now.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, “I saved your _life_ ” he snapped defensively.

“You nearly _died!”_ she screeched, jumping to her feet, her hands fisted in her hair like she was holding onto the remainder of her sanity. She was laughing hysterically, “You nearly died”. Definitely the last of her sanity. He stared at her as she stood still next to his bed, her hands still in her hair as she bit her lip. “You nearly died.” She whispered quieter, the vulnerability creeping into her wobbly voice.

Bellamy’s eyes softened and he reached out, looping his finger in her belt loop. He pulled her down onto the bed with him. He shuffled over, facing her as she looked back at him sadly. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not your fault.”

Clarke gave him a deadpan expression, “You’re the one who jumped in front of it.”

“You’re going to have to stop being so grateful one of these days.” He replied sarcastically and Clarke shook her head. “Look, I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m here. You can stop worrying.”

Clarke looked up at him. “I need you” she stated and Bellamy’s heartbeat sped up. “I can’t have you die on me, or leave me or whatever. I need you. And if you die I _know_ it’d be worse than my dad. Promise me you won’t die on me?” She demanded. Promise me that you won't."

Bellamy shook his head, “We live in a world of unpredictability. Promises are never fulfilled princess.”

Clarke wiped her tears, “I swear to god if you get shot again I will _kill_ you.” she growled and Bellamy laughed, tucking her head under his chin, pressing a kiss on her hairline. Clarke nestled comfortably into his chest, pressing her hand to his chest.

“I know.” he whispered, "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! enjoy this one, it's so long, jesus christ, sorry it took forever.

Clarke was leaning her hip against the screen with Bellamy next to her. “Okay....” she started, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Frank Slade”

Bellamy swiped something on the screen, not even looking at her, “Al Pacino. Scent of a woman.”

Clarke pondered for a moment, “Ilsa Lund”

Bellamy waved his hand, “Ingrid Bergman. Casablanca” he replied, barely glancing at her while he continued to swipe over something.

She pursed her lips and noticed that the light outside had gone dark, it must have been late. “ _Oh!_  Alan Grant”

He looked up at her, unimpressed and raised his eye brow, “Seriously? Sam Neill. Jurassic Park. At least make them difficult”

Clarke threw her hands up in exasperation, “It’s not my fault you’ve seen every movie in existence”

Bellamy turned around, leaning his lower back next to hers and crossing his arms. He sighed, “Okay.” he stated, holding his hands out as though to set a scene, “Vito corleone.”

She scoffed, “ _Come on!_ The godfather, seriously? Why didn’t _you_ make it more difficult?”

“ _Okay! Okay!_ If you get this one, I will do your paperwork for a week” Bellamy stated confidently.

Clarke crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, “A month.” She replied and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He licked his lips, “Detective Jimmy Doyle.”

Clarke clapped her hands excitedly, grinning widely. Bellamy doesn’t think in the months they’ve been working that she’s ever smiled like that, “Gene Hackman. _The French connection”_

_“Damn it”_

She laughs and Bellamy remembers staring at her with a clear look of wonder in his eyes. She patted his arm just as the door from the forensics’ lab opened and Raven burst through, tying her hair into a pony tail.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, adjusting the strap to her bag.

“Bellamy’s stuck doing my paperwork for a month!” she cried, “Suck it!”

Bellamy rolled his eyes mockingly, “Don’t rub it in will you.” he sneered and she grinned, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

She’d become a lot more comfortable around him. She could touch him without feeling awkward and she trusted him. A lot more than she expected. Bellamy felt a small sense of pride that he could be the only who could touch her without her flinching. She flinched at Finn, Miller and Raven knew not to try. But Bellamy could give her a noogie without a single flinch.

And he felt bizarrely good about it.

“Such a sore loser. How did your sister deal with the board games?” she smirked.

Bellamy made an indistinct sound of disapproval, “I was _very_ good at Pictionary I’ll have you know.”

Miller rolled his eyes as he came out of his office, “You’re shit at Pictionary Bellamy. You thought a traffic cone was a fork.”

Jasper came out of the forensic Lab as well, Bellamy gave Miller a glare, “You’re a shit sketcher” he grimaced.

 Jasper crinkled is nose, “Also, when we played monopoly, you got so angry you flipped the board”

Clarke stifled a laugh and Bellamy felt a sudden urge to defend himself, “That dice was _rigged”_

 “Blame the tools.” Miller tutted and Bellamy opened his mouth to shoot an angry retort but a loud clap distracted everyone.

“Right!” Finn called, rubbing his hands together mischievously, “Who’s ready for an excessive amount of tequila, Rum and vodka and a pounding headache the day after?”

Raven raised an eyebrow, “Why, are you trying to drown out the fact that you’re a giant knob?”

Miller stifled a laugh. It was no secret the past Finn and Raven shared. Despite it being years ago, it was no surprise she held a grudge, and she would sometimes throw some digs his way.

“No, I’m trying to forget the fact that I ever fucked you.” he mocked.

Raven rolled her eyes and scoffed, “You need to forget me so that you can keep having moderate sex without comparing them to my _mind blowing-”_

“Okay.” Bellamy coughed and Clarke gave him a grateful look, removing her arm from around his shoulder. “Let’s go for a drink.”

They ended up going to a bar near the beach, Clarke argues that in Hawaii, everything’s near the fucking beach. But Bellamy takes them to his _favourite_ bar. It’s called Tommy’s. It’s an Irish bar owned by a blonde woman who Bellamy may or may not have fancied at one point or another.

They crowded into a small booth, all six of them. Clarke and Bellamy opposite each other, occasionally giving each other faces like _‘how are we going to get them home’_ or _‘Make them stop talking. Please.’_.

The waitress came over and handed them each their respectful drinks, Bellamy doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Clarke orders four shots between both of them to do. Clarke’s also not surprised when the blonde waitress gives Bellamy a once over and grins.

“You ready?” she asked wide eyed and excited.

Bellamy shook his head, “I’m not doing this Clarke. One of us has to stay sober.”

Clarke just shrugged and downed three of them, sighing in satisfaction at the end with a giant smile that Bellamy wished she’d wear more often. “You’re an alcoholic you know that?” he stated, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip of his beer.

Raven was betting Jasper that she could drink her whole beer in ten seconds and the waitress was making eyes at Bellamy from across the room. And for some reason, this annoyed Clarke.”Alcoholics go to meetings.” She pointed out, taking the final shot in her hand and downing it with a wince, “I’m a drunk. We go to parties.”

Bellamy shook his head and laughed at his ridiculous partner, turning away and taking another sip. His eyes accidentally locking with the bar tender’s. The blonde woman smiled and looked back down at her cleaning. Clarke followed his eye line and buried the niggling feeling of jealousy in her stomach.

_(You’re not jealous. Jealous of what?)_

“Go on.” She stated, jerking her head in direction of the bar.

Bellamy looked at her, “What?”

Clarke pointed to the blonde, “Go on. Get her number.”

Bellamy scoffed, “Nah. She’s not my type.”

Clarke, Finn, Raven _and_ jasper all raised their eyebrows and he frowned. “What?”

Raven pointed to her, “Let me get this straight. That blonde bombshell with tits the size of Mars-” Bellamy shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like talking about women that way, he has a sister for Christ’s sake, “And legs that go for miles, Isn’t your type?”

Bellamy shrugged, avoiding Clarke’s gaze, “She’s wearing too much make up.”

Raven whistled, “Man, if I weren’t straight...”

Miller smirked, leaning forward on the table with his elbows, “Yes. Tell me more.” He mocked and Raven smiled, shoving him back.

Finn rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his beer and wiping his upper lip, “If you’re not going for it, I will.” And with that he stood up and walked over to her.

The bar was pretty busy with people standing up and chatting and other sitting down. There was a constant thrum of conversation and music surrounded them. Jasper glanced at his phone, “Shit. I gotta go. Monty’s home.”

They all said goodbye to him and he doesn’t leave before downing his whisky. Raven suddenly sat up alert, nudging Clarke in the side. “2 o’clock.” She stated.

Clarke and Bellamy all followed the direction. Clarke smirked slyly while Bellamy’s eyes narrowed on the faces of the _boys_ who had just walked in. He turned back to see Clarke watching them with increasing interest. One glanced over at her and smirked slightly, his lips turning upwards as he followed his friends to a both next to the window. A booth from which he could see Clarke perfectly.

Bellamy scoffed and Raven licked her lips. “Nine” she stated definitely.

“Nah,” Clarke shook her head, taking Bell’s beer and taking a sip. He didn’t mind. “Seven at most.”

Miller frowned, “Seven? Do girls do the rating thing as well?” He whistled, “Well shit.”

“Seven?” Bellamy repeated, “They look homeless.”

Clarke giggled and Bellamy wanted her to do it more often. Raven jerked her Chin in direction of one of the Men sitting on the edge of the booth. “He’s mine.”

Clarke nodded, “You can have him.”

Bellamy frowned, “Which one you going for?” he asked suspiciously.

Clarke smiled at him, “Oh I’m not going for him.” She glanced at the one who gave her the eyes when he walked in, “He’s going for me.”

“Hold on” Miller started, “Did you rate us when you met us?”

Clarke and Raven shared a look and ten giggled, and Bellamy frowned, “What did we get?” he asked.

Clarke shook her head; “We didn’t rate you” she defended.

Miller shook his head, “Oh you so did. What was I, an eight? A nine?”

Raven shook her head and laughed just as she put down her beer bottle. She shrugged off her jacket handing it to Clarke and pulled her hair out of her pony tail. She ruffled it a little bit and Miller shook his head. “Boobs or no boobs?” she asked Clarke seriously, turning to face her.

Miller and Bellamy shared a look that said, _they’re fucking crazy._ Clarke nodded to Raven’s chest, “Boobs. But not too much. Give him something to think about.” She added and Raven nodded, tugging slightly at her shirt as she stood up and walked over to the man (she one she’d bagsied) that was standing at the bar ordering drinks.

Clarke shook her head, “He’s only a seven” she sighed. “She could do so much better”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, and watched Clarke take another sip of his beer. She put it down on the table. “Oops. Sorry, I finished it” she stated insincerely, “I’ll get you another one” she reassured.

She puffed her hair up, like in the movies and unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt. Bellamy spotted the lace of her bra and forced himself _not_ to look there. Clarke glanced up at him, “Too much boob?” she asked worriedly.

“No” Bellamy choked, “its fine.” He stated.

She grinned, sliding out of the booth and heading to the bar. A few seconds later one of the men from the both slid up next to her and struck up a conversation. Bellamy watched with increasing frustration as she laughed at his jokes and stroked his arm.

Miller snatched the table knife that absentmindedly made its way into his hand, “Mate. Either do something, or move on”

“What?” Bellamy frowned.

Miller shook his head. “Talk to her. Or get over it.”

Bellamy turned back to see Clarke leaning against the bar with her shirt unbuttoned and the Guy staring at her with a look in his eyes that Bellamy knew he’d worn at some point. He took a sip of his beer, the distinct sound of the chattering voices disappeared into the dark as he watched Clarke throw her head back laughing.

Bellamy downed Miller’s drink, and Miller would have complained if it weren’t for the look on Bellamy’s face. Clarke’s hand rested on the guy’s shoulder and Bellamy’s rage simmered beneath the surface, and just as the guy leaned forward to whisper something in Clarke’s ear, Miller kicked Bellamy in the leg.

Bellamy yelped loudly, sending him a glare as Clarke turned around. She held up a finger to the guy as if to say _‘1 minute’_ and stumbled over. “Everything alright?” she asked slowly.

Bellamy shook his head, standing up. “I’m gonna go”

Clarke pouted and Bellamy’s self control was having serious issues. “Don’t leave me with _Finn.”_ She scoffed, “He’ll probably try and cop another feel.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at Miller who shrugged, “ _Another?”_ he asked.

Clarke jumped, clapping her hands, “I should probably leave too before I start spilling my life story to strangers.” She added, buttoning up her shirt, and tucking her hair behind her ear.

Bellamy nodded, throwing his jacket over his shoulders, “I’ll take you home.”

Clarke smiled softly. “It’s a hotel.” She corrected, grabbing her jacket from Miller’s hands.

“Haven’t you heard princess? The people make the home. Not the place.” Bellamy stated, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

Bellamy helped Clarke stumble out of the Bar, he hailed a cab, putting her into the back and sliding in next to her, he grunted when he landed and Clarke tutted, “Don’t pull your stitches” she ordered. The drive wasn’t long, but Bellamy could feel the _thinking_ rolling off of Clarke.

“What’s wrong princess?” he asked.

She turned to look at him, frowning. “What’s your biggest fear?” she asked quietly.

Bellamy cocked his head, “Why do you want to know?”

“Isn’t this what partners do? Share their deepest darkest secrets?” She grinned.

Bellamy shook his head, “Not when they’re drunk.”

Clarke waved him off, “You get more out of drunk people.”

“Okay.” Bellamy started, “My biggest fear is that someday, I’m going to end up back in my old life. With the grounders.” He explained slowly.

Clarke’s neck snapped around to look at him, anger in her eyes. “You will _not.”_ She hissed.

Bellamy shook his head, “You don’t know me princess.”

“I know you better than you think. And I know that your biggest enemy is yourself. You never think you’re good enough. Someone along the way told you, you were a bad guy, and you believed them. _Believe me_ Bellamy when I say that _they_ are full of shit. You’re the best man I know. You’re not a bad guy. So when I say you won’t go back to them, I’m not saying it because I’m trying to make you feel better, I’m saying it because I believe it. I _promise,_ you will never have to go back to them, not as long as I have a say in it.”

Bellamy stared at her, watching her eyes dim and watching her turn around. “What’s yours?”

“Not important.” She murmured.

“Nah, princess, it’s your turn. Quid pro quo.”

Clarke sighed, looking at the stars from the cab window, “I’m scared of spiders, and palm readers and those little bugs that you find around dead people and-” Bellamy laughed, shaking his head.

“No. You’re biggest fear.”He reiterated with a smile.

Clarke shrugged simply, “That when my time is up here, I won't want to leave.”

“Why does that scare you?” he asked.

She turned around to look at him, “Because I think _you’re_ keeping me here. I think no matter what I do, where I go, no matter how many miles or countries away I am, you’re going to pull me back here.”

“And that scares you?” he asked dumbly.

Clarke laughed, blubbering through her cracking voice, “Yes. It scares me.”

Bellamy shrugged, “I think that’s the most irrational fear to have. Its fight or flight, human nature, you shouldn’t be scared of leaving or staying. But-” Bellamy turned to look out of his window, ignoring the look Clarke was giving him, “if it helps. I want you to stay.” He stated, “I need you.”

“It doesn’t.” Clarke turned away from her window, her hands reaching for his. She held it between both of her palms, placing a soft kiss on the tanned skin and nodding. “But I’m here. For now, I’m here.”

“Promise me you’ll stay.” He stated.

Clarke smiled softly, the stars reflected in her eyes, “I can’t promise that.” The cab slid to a halt and Clarke dropped his hand like it was on fire, Bellamy went to get out but Clarke held him back, “I’m fine from here.” she stated, jumping out of the car.

Bellamy caught her wrist before she could slam the door. Clarke turned around, looking at the sincerity and hurt in his eyes. She thought he would say it; say something that would make her run into his arms and him to expect a happy ending.

Instead, he cocked his head and grinned, “Palm readers?” he asked.

Clarke laughed, “Shut up” she exclaimed as he let go of her hand. She paused at the door, “Bye.” She whispered, slamming it shut.

And the next morning, neither of them wanted to remember the conversation.

 

* * *

 

Clarke hadn’t shown up to work. And normally she was the first in and the last out. But that day, she hadn’t come in at all. Because that day was the day of her father’s funeral.

Clarke was radio silent. Not a peep, not a word, not a sound. Bellamy found her at the top of a grassy hill, overlooking the graveyard. Her father’s funeral was in full procession with her mother at the front, dressed entirely in black with red rimmed eyes and a priest reading out a gospel on the opposite side of the grave.

She was sitting on the hood of her car with her legs bent and her arms draped over her knees and her head resting in the middle. The wind was blowing through her hair and brushing a tear away from her cheek as she watched the funeral continue.

Bellamy approached her slowly, she knew he was there. And _he_ knew that. He stood by the side of her car, watching her carefully before she sighed. “Are you going to keep staring at me like you’ve seen me in a porno, or are you going to sit down?” she asked.

Bellamy nearly laughed, but instead shuffled next to her with his legs spread out length ways and his hands holding him up against the hood. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Clarke didn’t turn away from the funeral, “I’m waiting for guy with a camera to show up so we can shoot a _particularly_ morbid porno.” She shot back sarcastically, “It’s an acquired taste, but I’ve heard the sadists _really_ love it.” She let out a loud breath and shook her head. “What does it look like?” she asked quietly.

Sarcasm was a defence mechanism for when she was seriously not in the mood for an emotional conversation, not that she ever really was. He pointed to the coffin, “Why aren’t you over there with everyone else?” he asked.

Clarke shrugged, “I don’t particularly want to see any of them.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, “Isn’t your mother over there though?” he asked.

She turned to him with a glare that read _Fucking moron,_ “What’s your point?” she snapped.

“Don’t you want to see her?” he asked and Clarke scoffed, turning back to the funeral where her mother was preparing for her speech.

“She can go to hell for all I care.” Clarke muttered. Bellamy fell silent and turned to watch the funeral with her.

Her mother stepped forwards and started to read out something she’d written on a piece of paper. She got about three sentences in before she started to cry.

“When I was ten” Clarke started slowly “My parents got divorced. And I know that it happens to a lot of people and I know it’s not really that big a deal, but, they’d argue a lot. I knew it was going to happen before they even told me. I think _I_ knew before they did. I sort of figured it out. They came to me one day and dad said, ‘Kiddo. Your mother and I are getting a divorce.’ They wouldn’t tell me why, but I figured it out. Because the day after, I came home early from practice and uh... my mom was fucking some guy upstairs that was not my father.”

Bellamy groaned, “Shit Clarke, I’m sorry.”

“Why, was it you?” she bristled.

Bellamy stammered, staring at her in shock, “Well not but-”

Clarke waved him off, “Then don’t apologise.” Bellamy shuffled awkwardly as Clarke continued to watch the funeral. “It’s funny. That’s not even the reason I don’t talk to her.” Clarke chuckled bitterly.

Bellamy frowned, “Why don’t you talk to her then?”

Clarke shrugged, “The whole fucking another man thing was easily forgivable because they’d announced their divorce. I didn’t really care. But when we stopped talking I just kind of focused on that because the reason I don’t talk to her is actually really petty.”

Bellamy shook his head, “Now you gotta tell me.”

Clarke sighed, “You’ve read my file. That means you know that before the marines I was in medical school for about a semester. My mom aspired for me to become a surgeon, just like her and I was a stupid, loyal kid, and I followed her. I wanted to make her proud. The only thing I’m grateful for is that if I hadn’t gone to medical school I’d never have met Raven or Jasper, or Monty, or even Finn for that matter. So a semester in, I got an A on a paper that I _so_ did _not_ deserve an A on. And I found out that my mother had called the principle and said some words, and from then on, no matter how hard I worked, my marks would always, be A’s.” she shrugged, “So I quit.”

Bellamy frowned, “It sounds like she tried to do a nice thing, granted, I agree that she didn’t go around the right way, but it was with good intentions.”

Clarke scoffed, “Well, she can shove her good intentions up her ass for all I care. I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Talk to me then.” He replied, pointing to himself.

She scoffed, “About what?”

Bellamy pointed to the funeral, “About how to feel, about the fact that your father was murdered.”

She shook her head, “I’m over the moon Bellamy. My dad dying was _awesome.”_ She blabbered sarcastically, “I’ve never been happier, it was almost as awesome as when I took Finn home to... No, Bellamy, it was great.”

Bellamy frowned, “You took Finn home to... _what?”_  He repeated.

Clarke shook her head, “Nothing.”

Bellamy frowned, “Took Finn home... to your _parents_?” he asked and Clarke cringed. His mouth hung open, “You _dated Finn_?”

“Yeah, well _obviously_ I regret it” she snapped.

Bellamy stared at her with his mouth still wide open as he continued to blink and blink again. “When was _this?”_ he stammered.

The blond waved her hand, “I was eighteen, I thought I was in _love-”_ she said the word _love_ like it was some kind of a joke, “I thought my mom would like him and I thought... I was stupid. It was a long time ago.” She shrugged.

“ _Finn?”_ He repeated and Clarke sighed.

“Yes, _Finn._ Big whoop.” She muttered.

Bellamy shook his head, “Hold on. _You, dated?_ You did the whole sentimental thing?” he asked and Clarke narrowed her eyes.

“Is that so hard to believe?” she demanded.

Bellamy smirked, “So you did the whole, pda thing and you probably lost your virginity to him and...” Clarke shuffled awkwardly and Bellamy laughed, “Oh this is too good, you had _sex_ with _Finn._ Of all people!” he cried and Clarke punched him in the arm.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up” she snapped, “It’s not like you’re so high and mighty, Mr _‘I’m not that guy.’”_ Bellamy stared at her, the muscles in his jaw suddenly impeccably still.

“Raven wasn’t supposed to tell you about that” he grit his teeth.

Clarke sneered sarcastically, “So you fucked Raven, _big whoop.”_ She mocked.

Bellamy clicked his tongue as his jaw locked. “This was a bad idea”

She rolled her eyes, “What was a bad idea?”

“Asking you about your feelings” he scoffed, “Obviously you don’t have any. And you know, I don’t know why that shocks me anymore.”

Clarke laughed, “You’re such a hypocrite Bellamy.” She scoffed, “You didn’t talk to your sister for _years_ because you were too proud”

“It’s against the rules to fraternise with criminals” Bellamy seethed through grit teeth, pointing an accusing finger in her direction.

She scoffed, shaking her head, “Since when did you give a shit about the rules?”

“Goddamn it Clarke” he yelled, jumping from the car, “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? It’s not like you know anything about family, you’re on a fucking hill, avoiding your _mother_ at your _father’s_ funeral! I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed and then clouded over with something that was a lot like anger. He couldn’t tell. It was a recurring emotion. “You’re still a fucking hypocrite and-...” Clarke trailed off when her mother’s eyes so unsubtly landed on her.

She must have heard the argument. Clarke couldn’t look away as her mother cocked her head. Like she was seeing Clarke for the first time ever. Which considering the amount of time it had been, wasn’t an exaggeration. Abby looked like she was about to cry and Clarke’s hand was twitching. Bellamy watched the scene nervously and flinched along with Clarke when her mother took a step towards her.

Clarke took a step back, but Abigail griffin wasn’t easily dissuaded. She took another step forward and this time Clarke turned and ran. She jumped into her car, slamming the door behind her loudly.

“ _Princess_!” Bellamy called, running towards her.

She started the motor and peeled off the road. Driving in the opposite direction of Bellamy and leaving him with a cloud of ash and dust. And Clarke’s mother watching like she’d just accepted everything that was happening.

 

* * *

 

The day Bellamy found out she left, was the worst of his life. _Well_ , his mother dying and not talking to his sister were pretty big as well, but the problem with Clarke was that Bellamy knew she could vanish and he wouldn’t be able to find her. He knew she could up and leave at any point, to anywhere in the world and if she didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t find her.

At least not through legal means.

He knocked on her hotel door, “Princess? You in there? You better be in there. I’ve got beer.” He added. At this point, the alcoholic in Clarke would have jumped at the door, but when she didn’t, Bellamy frowned. “Clarke?” he repeated, knocking on her door again. He sighed, “Listen, if you’re still pissed off about last night, I’m sorry. It was unprofessional and- _Look_ , can you just open the door, I’d rather apologise to a face and not a door knob.”

He dangled the six pack by his side and tried the door handle. It opened straight away and Bellamy peered his head round the corner. “Princess?” he repeated, placing the beers on the floor and reaching for his gun. “ _Clarke?”_ he added, “If this is a joke it’s not funny. Clarke?”

He approached slowly into her hotel room.  Four months here and she still didn’t buy a house. Bellamy’s not sure what that says about their relationship. He spotted the perfectly made up bed and immediately frowned. Clarke was the messiest person he knew. No way would she make a _bed._ None of her clothes were thrown around the room like normal and the place look intact.

On the surface of her bed Bellamy spotted an envelope. He pinched his nose; Of course his worst fear would come to life.

She would up and leave him without so much as a goodbye.

The front of the envelope had _Bellamy_ sprawled in her perfect italic handwriting. He ripped it open, and just like Clarke would have done, _just like her to have done this,_ all the letter said was:

_Nice working with you._

Bellamy scoffed, laughing at the letter. He rubbed his eyes. _Fucking independent women. Never listen to anyone._ He sat on the edge of the bed, shaking his head with the letter crumpled into his hand. _Fucking Clarke griffin was going to be the fucking death of him._ He felt a dull ache in his chest, a sudden sadness that he’d never see her again.

His chest was heaving, as if her were angry, but it was like he couldn’t be angry. He didn’t have the heart for it. All he felt was... _nothing._ He didn’t feel anything. _Clarke fucking griffin had made him numb._

 

* * *

 

He found her in some Japanese shanty town deep within the community of Tokyo, underground in a room that Bellamy was sure smelt of rotting corpse. And he gave her hell. He let all the anger he’d pent up for _weeks_ out in one single line his mind was stuck on.

“Wells said that he’d be in the top penthouse.” Clarke pointed.

Sterling raised an eyebrow, “And we can trust him?” he asked.

Clarke paused, letting out a deep sigh, “He’s a friend.” She explained.

Harper raised her hand in acceptance, “That’s good enough for me.”

Clarke smiled in her direction and then pointed to the blueprints, “Right, Cole, I want you covering the back exit. Jack I want you covering the front with Miles and Sterling. Harper you-”

“ _Nice working with you?”_ A voice ground out.

Clarke’s neck snapped around to look at the source. She had a machine gun strapped over her shoulder and was dressed completely in black with a black tank top, mud on her face and dirty hair. She stared at him wide eyed. Cole, Miles, Jack and Harper all held up their guns, training it at the door.

“Who the hell are you?” Harper snapped harshly and Bellamy gave her an unwelcome glare.

“Who the hell are _you_?” he bit back but Clarke was too dumbstruck to notice.

It was dark and Clarke had to narrow her eyes, but she could tell him apart from anyone. “What...” she started slowly, as to make sure she could make proper sentences. She turned to look at the others, “Put down your guns. He’s safe.”

He shook his head, _“Nice working with you?”_ He repeated, stepping forward into the light.

Clarke’s throat caught on what Bellamy suspiciously thought to be a sob, but she hid it well. He stood before her, anger etched over every inch of his face. Clarke didn’t care. _He was there._ She didn’t think she could be so happy to see anyone, let alone _Bellamy_ again. He shoved the letter into her face and she winced.

“ _Nice fucking working with you?”_  He all but yelled and Clarke threw a hand over his mouth. He shoved her off and she felt a pang of hurt in her stomach. She _had_ abandoned him, she reminded herself. “How fucking _dare_ you?” he snapped.

“ _Look-”_ Clarke started hotly in a tone Bellamy knew meant she was pissed off.

 _She had no fucking right._ “No _you_ look” he snapped, stepping forward and crowding her. If it were any other person she’d have punched them right in the face. But this was Bellamy. _Bellamy._ And for some reason that meant it was alright. “You do _not_ get to up and leave whenever you feel like it and not bother to say goodbye.”

Clarke looked down at her feet, scratching the back of her head. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of this conversation and finding herself actually _caring._ “You are my partner, my _friend._ And you just _left._ You promised me you wouldn’t do that.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “I was drunk Bellamy.”

“So was I.”

“I couldn’t say goodbye to you.” she murmured, looking at the wall where she’d laid out a map of Tokyo. “I couldn’t face it.”

Bellamy gripped at his scalp, “That’s the thing with you Clarke. You can’t ever face anything. You run whenever you get scared, that’s why you left Hawaii that’s why you left the navy and that’s why you left _me._ You left because you were a weak, scared coward and you couldn’t deal with what you were feeling and-”

“Shut up.” she growled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about”

“You said I wouldn’t have to go back to them.” He interrupted, “You said I would _never_ have to go back to them”

Clarke stared at him wide eyes, grabbing his arm, “You went back?” she asked, worried, “Why the _fuck_ would you do that Bellamy!”

“Because I was _looking_ for you!” he cried, “And the only people that would be able to find you were _them.”_

Clarke stared at him. She suddenly started pulling up his sleeves, inspecting his body. She unbuttoned his jacket, “Did they do something to you?” she demanded, her hands roaming around his torso.  Her warm palms gave Bellamy shivers as they travelled up his back, “Did they hurt you?”

Bellamy shoved her off roughly and when he spotted the hurt look on Clarke’s face his eye softened. “I'm fine.” He snapped.

Clarke let out a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and pressing the ball of her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s a bit late for that princess.” He replied.

“I’m sorry I made you go back to them. I know how much you hate them and I’m sorry.” She suddenly pursed her lips, “But...” _But._ Bellamy knew she was going to justify herself and he knew it was going to piss him off, “No one forced you to do that.” She stated, placing her hands on her hips.

Bellamy let out a shocked breath, his laughter turning harsh and bitter. “I’m so fucking done with your shit Clarke.” He yelled, “You left.” She winced, “Of course I was going to come after you. _You forced me to do that.”_

Clarke narrowed her eyes, “No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did! _Yes you did_. You made me care for you and then you ripped it all away from me. You don’t get to make me love you and then leave me like I didn’t even _matter_.”

Clarke froze, staring at him and Bellamy could see the indecision in her eyes before she blinked. Her hands balled into fists “Shut up!” she screamed, pushing him back, “Don’t say things like that, just shut up!”

“ _You_ shut up.” he roared as his pushed her against the wall, pulling her lips to his is a harsh yank.

It was hot, electric and it felt like fire filled Clarke’s veins. She knew this was a bad idea and she knew she should probably push him away but when his hands were roaming her back and he tasted like _this_... she really didn’t care.

The wall was cold against her back but Bellamy’s warm hands covered any exposed skin, he pulled the machine gun from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. His hands roamed her body and Clarke could barely form a coherent thought. He pushed her closer to him while his other hand gripped at her dirty blond hair.

Clarke melted into his arms, throwing hers around his neck. Bellamy pulled impatiently at her hair and her mouth widened.

He was a _really_ good kisser.

Clarke’s back rammed against the wall and she groaned as Bellamy pulled at her hair to widen her mouth. His fingers tangled tightly in her hair and his other hand sliding up the back of her shirt. His nails dug into her skin and she gasped into his mouth.

“You’re coming back with me” he muttered, pulling away. He stared into her eyes and it was like he was finally seeing the Clarke he always knew was there.

He could see the fear in her eyes, “I can’t-”

“ _Hey.”_ He interrupted, “You’re coming back.”

_I need you to come back._

Clarke sighed with a pained look in her eyes, “Okay.” Bellamy smiled and Clarke’s mind was almost made up right there. “I’ll come back.”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy sighed and crinkled his eyes shut. The harsh Hawaiian sun was glaring through his blinds and it seemed that no matter where he turned, he couldn’t get away from it. He turned his head to the side, shuffling his body only to feel himself weighed down.

He cracked one eye open and was met with wisps of blond hair on the cushion next to him. He felt a soft smile creep onto his face just as Clarke rolled to her side. Her hand slithered up his torso and he shivered just as she balled it into a loose fist. Her other hand as tucked under her head and Bellamy noticed that when she slept she didn’t look angry what so ever.

He blinked a few times, his hand reaching up and threading softly through her hair. Clarke sighed contently, tucking her head beneath his chin, “What are you doing?” she murmured.

Bellamy shushed her, “Just enjoy the moment Griffin.”

She cracked one eye open, “This is a moment?” she asked carefully and Bellamy’s hand stilled in her hair.

Bellamy huffed, “Not anymore.” He removed his hand.

Clarke lifted herself so that her head was resting in her hand and her elbow was against the cushion. She was in her bra and underwear and Bellamy’s duvet rested against her waist while it was ridding dangerously low on Bellamy’s hips. She smiled slightly, “You’re moody in the mornings” she remarked.

Bellamy turned his head to look at her and her lopsided smile, “I’m tired in the mornings.” He sighed.

Clarke cocked her head, “Too tired for breakfast?” she asked with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

Bellamy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, placing a soft kiss on the side of her lips. “What are you planning on cooking?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “Who the hell said I was cooking?” She could faintly hear a soft melody sounding from the alarm clock next to her.

Bellamy chuckled, “You’re right, stupid question.”

“I shoved some pancakes in the oven, they should be ready soon” Clarke muttered as he threw the covers off. Clarke shivered. “Fucking get back to bed you idiot, it’s minus five degrees in the living room.” She ordered and Bellamy watched her clutch the duvet around her figure. He watched her teeth chatter and her eyes return to their usual demeanour. He grinned and Clarke’s eyes widened, “Don’t you dare- Bellamy I swear to god”

“You swear a lot” Bellamy pouted just as his hands wrapped around the end of the duvet, Clarke glared at him.

“Don’t even _think_ about it- _Bellamy!”_

Bellamy yanked the duvet away in one pull and let it float to the other side of the room and land on top of his shoes. Clarke shrieked and pulled her legs closer to her body. Bellamy stood mesmerised as the beautiful woman before him looked ready to kill him and laugh at the same time. Her hair was dishevelled, thrown around in other directions and fading into the light that was bouncing off her bare back. The soft light melody of the song on the radio suddenly filled his senses.

Her milky white skin illuminated against the sun and her eyes were so full of _everything_ that Bellamy thought it was a wonder he could concentrate at work. She sat on the left side of his bed (Even though it was his side) with her left leg bent and the other stretched out, wearing only her navy blue lace bar and underwear that Bellamy found extremely attractive on her.

They were absolutely, totally, utterly, 100% _not_ in a relationship, as Clarke liked to repeat every time he opened the door at 6 o’clock in the evening to see her standing with a pack of beers and a movie. She would then repeat it every morning while he cooked them breakfast and her arms were around his waist.

_Not in a relationship._

“What are you staring at?” she frowned.

Bellamy cocked his head, “You’re gorgeous you know that?” he murmured.

Clarke shook her head, “fuck off.” She chuckled.

Bellamy grinned, walking around the side of the bed while Clarke watched him with a frown. He stood next to her and his hands outstretched. The music from the radio seemed louder and Clarke understood how the song fit the moment perfectly. She clasped his hands in hers and allowed him to stand her up.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist and his palm was a palette of heat on her back, her hands rested around his shoulders and clutched behind his neck. “Can you dance?” she asked quietly as they started to twist carefully around his bedroom.

“Only with my feet” he reassured and Clarke smiled, “And only for you”

“You know, you’re bizarrely sappy detective.” Clarke smirked, running her finger through his hair.

Bellamy shrugged, “And you’re surprisingly affectionate sergeant.”                                

Clarke shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck with a sigh, “Can I ask you something?”

Bellamy’s nose brushed her cheek as he pressed a soft kiss on her jaw, “Sure”

Clarke took a deep breath, “Can you come look at some apartments with me?”

Bellamy’s neck snapped up to look at her. He stared at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief, “What?” He asked with a giant beaming grin across his face, “Flats?” he added calmer.

Clarke swiped her thumb across his lips and nodded, “I need a native Hawaiian to help me out, you know, pick the nice neighbourhoods and stuff.”

Bellamy nodded mockingly, “Right. I’m sure I can find some time in my busy schedule.” He stated coolly.

Clarke nodded in response, “Of course, I would never take you away from something more important.”

Bellamy twisted in fingers in her hair, feeling the soft strands against his skin. “Does this mean you’ve got something to stay for?”

Clarke frowned, “Depends. Do you think Miller would go for me?” she joked and Bellamy shook his head before pulling her in for a kiss.

Clarke sighed contently, her arms gathering his shirt and dragging it over his head, “Alright slow down sex addict” he joked, his voice vibrating against her mouth.

Clarke laughed in the kiss, her head thrown back and she lost her footing. Her leg lifted off the ground and Bellamy tried to hold her up, only for them both to collapse back onto the bed with a loud umph and a bed that creaked. Bellamy hovered over her, with her legs hanging over the side of the bed, barely touching the ground.

Clarke looked up at him and cocked her head with narrowed eyes, “I’ve see _the French connection_ ” she staked, stroking his cheek

“I know.” Bellamy replied, placing a kiss on her fingertips.

Clarke rolled her eyes, prodding him in the bare chest, “You _knew_ that I’d already seen _the French connection_ ”

“What?” Bellamy raised an eyebrow, sliding down and lying next to her.

Clarke turned her head to look at him and he pushed strands of yellow hair away from her face, “When you asked me to guess Gene Hackman’s character. You knew I’d seen it. Just like you knew I’d seen _the godfather_ ”

Bellamy placed a soft kiss on her palm and then on the inside of her wrist, “And how would I have known that princess?” he asked quietly, placing another kiss on the tip of her nose. Clarke wrinkled her nose.

Clarke smiled softly, “There’s a shelf in my dad’s house labelled Clarke’s favourite movies.”

Bellamy shrugged, “Is there?”

“You let me win.” She accused, rolling her leg onto the other side of his body so that she hovered over him.

Bellamy cocked his head, his hands sliding up and down her thighs, “Who says I let you win?”

“Why would you do that?” she asked, frowning as her hair fell in front of her eyes.

Bellamy tucked strands of it behind her ear and let his hand cup her cheek, “I didn’t” he replied.

“You let me win.”

Bellamy scoffed, waving her off, “I would never let anyone win”

“But you did.” Clarke leaned closer, “Why would you do that?”

Bellamy sighed loudly, “I wanted to see you smile.” He muttered and Clarke smiled. It was like he’d planned it or something.

She lowered her face so she was inches from his. She wanted to see his eyes, see if he was telling the truth. “Was it worth it?” she asked quietly.

“No.” He shook his head.

Clarke frowned, “How come?”

He smiled, rolling her over so that he hovered over her, “Because...” he dragged out, kissing her on the curve of her neck. “Then I heard you laugh. And I realised that I was totally, and _utterly, fucked._ ” He kissed her lightly on the lips and Clarke sniggered.

“Such a poetic way with words.” She stated

“I’m thinking the next Edgar Allan Poe.” He added and Clarke smirked.

“A murdering police officer afraid of blondes so he kills his partner and buries her under the floorboards. Sounds ever so romantic.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes as Clarke started to laugh. He eyes crinkled along with it and Bellamy found her laughter so infectious, so desirable and so melodious that it’s like he found himself singing along. Singing along to the song of Clarke griffin. It’s like he’d memorised all the words and the tune, how the instruments worked and who the lead singer was.

Bellamy shook his head with a grin, “You’re so immature” he muttered, his eyes crinkled.

Clarke cocked her head, his eyes were so brown and the light glinted off his face, “Maturity looks like such hard work” she shrugged in all seriousness, her fingers running through his hair.

Bellamy leaned down, placing a kiss on her lips, “God, all that stuff like worrying about life looks exhausting” he mumbled against her lips.

He felt Clarke grin, “ _Right?”_ she muttered, her hands on his cheeks.

Clarke didn’t understand how it was possible for someone to be such a good kisser. Not that she’d ever tell him that when he kissed her she lost all feeling in her legs and was sure that if, most of the time, he wasn’t holding onto her, she’d probably collapse.

He tasted like honey and hope and pleasure and something sweet melting in her mouth and like the cosmos was flooding her mind and all that she could see were stars and a black sky with a ray of light. She hooked her legs around his waist and rolled them over. Bellamy grinned into the kiss.

“You know, I’ve heard that morning sex is good for moral” he remarked, his lips travelling down her neck.

Clarke shut her eyes, fire filled her veins and she felt a shiver run up her spine as his hand travelled up her thigh. “Who’s the sex addict now?” she smirked, pulling his face to hers and kissing him again.

Clarke pulled away from Bellamy abruptly, so abruptly that he blinked a few times before he realised what was going on. He shook his head, his fingers threading through her hear as he sat himself up with Clarke on his lap. “It can wait” he stated, pulling her in for a kiss. Another beep sounded and Bellamy groaned. Clarke chuckled, clambering off of Bellamy’s legs.

“We won’t have any breakfast if I don’t stop it” she wondered towards the door, her blond hair swaying down her back and Bellamy eyed her up and down as she made her way towards the door. She left him sitting on the side of the bed in his boxers, leaning back on his arms.

“Do you mind putting some clothes on, I’d rather my neighbours _not_ ogle you through the windows.” He huffed; Clarke turned around at his slightly worried face and smiled.

“Are you jealous of a sixty-five year old man?” she asked patronisingly.

“Hey, he’s got _years_ of experience on his side; all I’ve got are my good looks and charm.”

She smiled knowingly, “Well, they’re working wonders for you right now.” She glanced at the chair next to his door and picked up his light blue shirt, her watch clanging against the buttons.

She pulled it up her arms and threw it around her body, the fabric hanging loosely around her hips. Bellamy grinned, “You look better in that than I ever did” he stated

Clarke smirked, her bare feet carrying her around the corner, “Oh yeah?”

Bellamy nodded, “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on the floor” he joked.

Clarke shook her head, “Give me five minutes” and she turned the corner.

Bellamy fell back against his bed, sighing loudly. He heard clanging in his kitchen and then Clarke called, “Bell, where’s the maple syrup and the bananas?” she asked.

He frowned, “Why do you want those?” he asked.

“Because that’s how you eat your pancakes” She said in a voice that suggested she thought he was mentally retarded.

Bellamy found himself smiling, not even _that_ , he was grinning, illuminated. Clarke. Clarke was making him into some hormonal, giggly teenager. He closed his eyes, letting out a small laugh. “Princess?” he called.

“ _I found them._ It’s fine.” She replied.

“ _Princess?”_ he called again.

“What?” she replied, another clang followed and Bellamy’s sure he heard a pancake fall onto the floor.

Bellamy lifted himself up onto his elbows. “I love you.” he stated loudly.

Love wasn’t a word he’d repeated since the Japanese slum incident. He’d rather not have made her feel forced into somewhat dating him. He was aware that she knew how he felt; she just didn’t say anything about it.

His flat was silent. Not a word, not a clang, not a peep. He could distinctly hear the wind coming from his balcony window but nothing other than that. He frowned, “Princess?” he called.

Bellamy shuffled off his bed, ruffling his hair, “Clarke?” he stood up, “Look I know what you’re like, so you probably...” Bellamy trailed off when he reached his empty kitchen. There was a pan on the floor with a few drips of maple syrup following.

Bellamy frowned. The sun was creeping through the wafer thin curtains and Bellamy spotted chair toppled onto the floor near the open balcony window. “Clarke?” he called, “This isn’t funny”

Bellamy had a distinct flashback to when she’d left her hotel, but this time it was different, it felt different. Bellamy approached the open balcony door slowly and his eyes were drawn to the dragged handprint off blood on the metal gate.

“ _Clarke!”_

 

* * *

 

The door burst open for the third time. Jaha walked in, for the third time, and Clarke rolled her eyes, for the third time. Jaha stood next to the chair opposite her and she winced at the pain that sliced across her face.

He’d been torturing her.

He had tied her to a metal quadrant fence with thick chains and had run currents through it. He’d electrocuted her and then slashed her in places that wouldn’t make her bleed too much but would hurt. He’d stripped her down to her underwear to make sure she didn’t have any wires and there was blood and sweat covering her body. Her hair hung limp and lifeless, somehow covered in dirt. And yet, she managed a defiant tone.

“You know, they’re going to find me?” she stated in a heavy breath.

Jaha waved his hand, “I highly doubt that. Now-”

“I won't tell you a _thing_.” She interrupted.

Jaha glared at her, “Don’t interrupt” he said taking off his hat and placing it under his arm. “I already know that.” He continued, “You’re life is of no value to you. You’d rather die than put anyone in danger.” He said as though it were obvious.

“Then...” she trailed off.

“What are you doing here?” he finished. He started to pull off his black leather gloves and placed them into his hat, “I’ve decided to change tactics. It’s simple. You have a weakness. The biggest weakness of all.”

Clarke scoffed, “Oh yeah, what’s that? Mikados? A few cream eggs? I do like a cheeky Twinkie now and again.”

Jaha made a twist of his hand as though he was presenting something to her, “Love.” He stated as he placed his hat on the chair.

 _“Love?”_ She repeated disbelievingly.

Jaha unbuttoned his jacket and placed it carefully over the chair. “I’ve known you for a while now Miss Griffin. I was watching you even before you your father died.”

Clarke balled her hands into fists, “You mean before you _murdered_ him!” she snapped.

 _“Don’t Interrupt.”_ He hissed, picking up the hat and sitting down. He handed the hat to one of his guards. “You see, I’ve never seen you act around anyone the way you act around _him_.”

Clarke stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said monotonously.

Jaha frowned, clicking his fingers. One of the guards handed him a file and he opened it, producing Bellamy’s academy graduation photo, “Bellamy Blake is it?” he asked and Clarke’s breathing slowed to a dangerous hiss.

“I see what you’re doing.” She ground out.

Jaha replaced the picture into the file and handed the file back to one of the guards. “It doesn’t take a genius.” He shrugged in his grey suit.

“You’re trying to use him against me. You haven’t got anything. You haven’t even got him.” She smirked.

“Don’t I?” Jaha clicked his fingers and someone handed him a laptop. He tapped a few keys and produced a recording. A live recording. A recording through the lens of a sniper rifle of Bellamy pacing around inside his HPD swarmed house with Miller, Finn and Raven all listening to him.

Clarke’s heart squeezed in her chest but when the screen was taken away from her she growled. Her nails were digging into her palm and her eyes darkened dangerously. “I swear to _God_ , if you lay a _finger_ on him I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Jaha interrupted, handing the laptop back to one of the guards. “Kill me? If you hadn’t realised Clarke, you’re tied up. I’m winning. There’s nothing stopping me from killing him.”

“You son of a _bitch”_ Clarke screamed pushing off the wall in an attempt to attack him but the chains strained and pulled her back to slam into the grilled fence. Her breathing was heavy and, she grit her teeth.

Jaha smiled knowingly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “There is it. You’d rather die that let him get hurt.”

Clarke swallowed, “What do you want?” she tried not to beg.

“I already made that clear.” He replied, finally glad that they were getting somewhere.

Clarke shook her head sadly, “I can’t. I can’t tell you where he is.” Jaha stood up from his seat and his hand slammed down next to her face.

“ _He’s my son!”_ he yelled.

 _“He’s my friend!_ And he _turned_ you in. How do you think I found you in Japan?” Clarke narrowed her eyes when he stepped away from her as though she’d electrocuted him. She wished she had.

Jaha quickly shook his head, ridding himself of the surprise in his eyes, “He wouldn’t.”

“Wells hated what you were doing. He hated it _all_. He called me one night and told me he was done. He wanted out. And I gave it to him. _You_ are _so_ fucked up in the head that you’re own _son_ would rather you be _dead-”_

Jaha slapped her across the face. _Hard._ She turned back to face him and licked the blood off her lip. She grinned through the red liquid pooling in her mouth.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”Jaha stated, his voice wavering.

Clarke smirked, “Don’t I?”

Jaha pointed at her with a wild murderous look in his eyes. “ _Where is he?”_

“ _I can’t tell you.”_ She emphasised each word. Speaking was draining her, she could barely lift her head up.

Jaha suddenly stood higher, looking apologetic as he picked up his coat and tucked it over his arm. “That’s unfortunate Miss Griffin. Say goodbye to the man you love.” He stated indifferently and the look of panic in Clarke’s eyes was beyond what _she_ was expecting to feel.

“No, you can’t, no, no, you want me, not him, what will you get from killing him?” she demanded.

Jaha smiled, placing the gloves in his pocket and the hat on his head, “You in pain.” He stated as the guard brought forward the laptop and placed it on the chair before her.

She watched as Bellamy sat with Miller, looking worried as he was trying to re-enact the scene. Jaha’s phone beeped and she looked up. “All you have to do is tell me” he said quietly.

She shook her head, “I can’t. I can’t. _I can’t.”_ She begged, “Please.” She added quietly, “ _Please,_ don’t kill him.” She grit her teeth, disgusted with the fact that she was begging the man who killed her father.

He reached for his phone, no doubt to dial the sniper’s number but the door burst open at that very moment. Clarke couldn’t keep her head up but she heard “HPD” and let out a sigh of relief. She saw pull out his gun and almost laughed. A second later he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Clarke watched at the officer’s swarmed the room with Miller barking out orders. She realised that her body was blackened by the dirt, mud and sweat and her hair was dripping blood and sweat from where they’d knocked her out. _‘Death by a thousand cuts’_ they’d called it.

She’d been sliced over with a knife on every spare area of skin. Blood was dripping down her dirty skin as she hung from the fence. “Hey, hey, princess, look at me.”

Clarke lifted her head slightly while Bellamy’s hands helped her. One of her eyes was bruised shut and the other had trouble staying open. “I saw you... on the video” she groaned.

Bellamy shook his head, “It was a recording, we traced the signal back here.” He explained, eyeing the chains around her wrists and ankle. He was infuriated and beyond angry as he spotted the cuts around her torso.

Clarke jerked her chin weakly towards the guard who had been shot as well. “Keys” she stated.

Bellamy yanked them from the guard’s belt, unlocking her. She didn’t have the energy to stand herself up and so felt forward into Bellamy. He caught her quickly, “Easy there princess.” She threw an arm around his shoulder and his around her waist as he helped her limp out.

“You’re getting better security at home.” She warned weakly in a croaky voice.

Bellamy scoffed, limping her down the dark corridor, “Home?” he pointed out.

 “Yeah” she nodded, “Home.”

 

* * *

 

He'd always wanted to see the house she grew up in, (With her mother) and somehow he's dissapointed. He thought maybe he could gain a better understanding of the woman beside him, but he knows everything already. “You can stare at it all you want; it’s still going to be there.” Bellamy pointed out, leaning against the car next to Clarke.

She bit her lip. He hair was pulled pack in a pony tail to allow the bandages to go around her neck. She had a broken wrist and multiple cuts all over her body. Bellamy had lent her his sweats so that she didn’t rip any stitches and they hung comically low on her body.

 “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Clarke asked nervously, narrowing her eyes at the house.

Bellamy pursed his lips, unimpressed, “She’s your mother Princess. And from what I’ve heard, she cares about you.”

She turned to look at him, “I’m think i'm scared” she whispered quietly.

He smiled softly, his fingers pushing the hair away from her face, “I know.” He replied, equally as quietly, “But I’m right here.” He assured.

Clarke stroked his cheek with her thumb, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” she asked, not meeting his eyes but the words still meant the same thing.

He shook his head with a small smile, "You know, this is the first i'm hearing of it."

Clarke smiled, a small beaming grin, “Well I do” she added,  “I think I have for a while now.” She added.

He cocked his head, "I think you’re stalling”

She wrinkled her nose and groaned, closing her eyes. “I don’t want to” she muttered, “What if she’s forgotten me?”

“I highly doubt that.” Bellamy laughed, nudging her shoulder and forcing her to turn around and face the house. “Go.” He ordered.

Clarke huffed, “You’re annoying” he mumbled.

Bellamy pecked her on the cheek, “You love me.” She smiled, turning around.

She took a deep breath, readjusting her pony tail and walking up the steps with bouncing confidence until she reached the final one. Her foot hovered over the platform and she held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears- like she could faint. She swallowed taking a shaky breath and slowly placed her foot behind her, as if to leave slowly but then thought  _'fuck it'_ and sprinted down the stairs.

“This was a bad idea” she hissed, pulling at the door handle only for her to keep missing it. Bellamy slowly reached out and took her hand into his. Interlacing their fingers and looking her fearful eyes straight on. Her fingers shook between his hands and she rubbed her back, pointing to the door.

"Come on." he said softly, walking slowly up the steps as if she was a bird that could be startled and fly away at any moment. She followed, each foot carefully taking one patter at a time until she fearfully placed her heal on the landing. Bellamy let go of her hand and jerked his chin forward as if to say  _go on._ She sighed loudly, rubbing her eyes and then wincing -fucking Jaha- "And hey-" she turned around to look at the man she'd so unceremoniously fallen in love with -it's still an alien word to her. He grinned, "I love you too." he shrugged.

She smiled, looking at the ground and letting her hair fall in front of her face, "Yeah." she murmured, "Yeah, I know."

He smirked, "Oh, that's all I get?"

She turned around and rung the doorbell rapidly before flashing him the middle finger behind her back. She waits nervously as footsteps approach the door and it's swung open. Clarke sucks in a sharp breath as her and her mother stand mere feet apart with the same look of utter shook and surprise. Clarke's chest heaved and her smile widened, "Mom." She breathed, "Mom, I'm sorry."

Her mother shook her head, laughing and reached forward for a hug, "It's okay sweetheart, it's okay."

And somehow, Bellamy knew it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT!!!


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